


And that's my song, unheard

by Anonymous



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pianist!Even, Slow Burn, UST, Violinist!Isak, angsty isak, i don't know shit about classical music, i loved it before it was on skam ok, lots of references to 90s hiphop, musical AU, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:59:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9352316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Isak is a second year at Nissen, and he's also a violinist at the local music school. The day a new pianist arrives is the day his world is rocked off its axis.Aka the I-dont-even-know AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If there are classically trained musicians reading this- Yes indeed, I have no fucking idea what I'm talking about. Feel free to yell at me in the comments. 
> 
> Heads-up for possible trigger warning down the line, if this gets continued.

Isak makes it to the Music school fifteen minutes early and walks briskly to the rehearsal room, hands itching to take his violin out of its case so he can play his heart out and forget about today. His week has been shitty enough, plagued by piles of never-ending schoolwork and parties until dawn where he never fails to drink enough to forget his own name. There's nagging worry at the back of his mind but he refuses to examine his motivation for getting blackout drunk too closely, pictures his hands playing Bach's Toccata instead, fingers lithe and nimble the way they never are when he actually plays.

Except there's music drifting through the corridor as he reaches the music room and he sighs in frustration because, _of course_ , someone else had the same idea and now he'll have to endure 10 minutes of small talk that he definitely could have done without. When he reaches the door, he braces himself inwardly before peering inside, trying to determine who is inside and whether he can get away with just a quick 'what's up', but what he sees stops him in his tracks.

The boy sat at the piano looks deceptively small, lanky body curled around the edge of the keyboard in a strange embrace as he plays the soft notes of a melody Isak doesn't recognize. Isak stares at the blond hair shining in the sunlight flooding the room, feels a familiar stirring in his stomach that he doesn't want to understand. His heart is pounding in his chest, hands clammy, and it feels like he's intruding on a secret ritual he has no business witnessing.

The boy is all but pounding away at the keys now, playing the soaring bridge of the unknown piece like he's exacting a secret revenge. The view is strangely unsettling to Isak, his gut churning and he closes his eyes for a second, trying not to think of anything. He flinches involuntarily when the pianist brutally ends his performance with a clatter, his hands slamming down on the keyboard in open frustration.

Pushing away from the piano, the stranger leans his head back with a sigh, gaze fixating on the ceiling until he notices a figure by the door out of the corner of his eye. He turns toward Isak, the scowl on his face instantly replaced by a friendly smile.

'Sorry, didn't realize I had an audience. I hope I wasn't too noisy.'

Isak tries to hide how unsettled he is by the sudden change in the boy's behavior, replying in a dry tone as he makes his way towards his usual spot. 'You might wanna keep it down, Borstad doesn't like it too much when people abuse her precious instruments.'

There's a hearty laugh at that, the guy standing up to meet him halfway and shake Isak's hand. 'I'm Even, by the way.'

'Isak,' he replies mechanically, setting his violin down.

Even eyes his instrument case in open interest. 'so you're a violinist. How long have you been playing?'

Big blue eyes stare him down intensely and Isak can feel himself bristle. The stranger seems amiable enough but he can still hear the clatter of the piano in the back of his mind. Also, he really hates that question.

'6 years,' he replies, eyes looking back down to the ground.

'Really? Would you like to play a duo with me on the piano? I need a partner.’

There's a hint of excitement in Even's voice, and he straddles the chair next to Isak's music sheet stand, resting his chin on his forearms.

Isak just stares at him for a second, taken aback. 'What are you talking about?'

I really think 'Forbidden colors' sounds much better as a musical duo. The piano alone doesn't do it justice'

Seeing that Isak is still staring at him in puzzlement, he furrows his eyebrows. 'You've never heard of it? The movie 'Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence?’

Isak scoffs. _Who the fuck is this hipster?_

'I'm Norwegian, man, how the hell am I supposed to know?'

Even's sigh is mockingly exaggerated. 'Either way, what do you say? I need someone who's experienced enough, there's no sheet available though so we need to write it first.'

'I still have no clue what you're talking about' Isak says dismissively, shrugging. He's a bit nervous already but the little flutter in his stomach when Even grins at him is unexpected.

'It's the tune I was playing. Don't you agree it sounds wrong on the piano? Like… there's something missing. Or someone,' he adds with a wink.

Isak feels himself blush, has to look away from Even's radiant smile. He doesn't understand why this one boy is making him feels so strange, each of his methodically built barriers breached one by one with every smile that Even flashes at him.

There are many things he could answer, _Emma is a better violinist_ , _I don't like the melody so much_ , or even _Dude, we just met_. Instead, he just asks, ‘Why are you starting in the middle of the year?’

Even closes off visibly at that, eyes narrowing for a second before he schools his face into an expression of careless. ‘I didn't like my old teacher,’ he says, shrugging.

Isak lets the lie slide easily. ‘Good timing, we couldn't find anyone to replace Elias on the piano.’

The sunshine grin is back. ‘Seems like I'll be the savior of this ensemble,’ and he laughs when Isak rolls his eyes.

The door opens on a small group of people and Isak flinches away like he's been caught. Even doesn't seem to notice, rising from his chair and stepping up to introduce himself with a smile, leaving Isak to feel a little bewildered. He feels like he has been caught in a storm of piercing blue eyes and blinding grins, and it's all making his head spin a little.  

When their instructor arrives, they all take their usual spot and Isak watches Even saunter towards the back of the room where the piano is located, still feeling like everything’s a bit surreal. But there's also something cold coiling around his gut and inside his chest, a swirl of anxiety and unease that has nothing to do with the exhilarating feeling of having Even’s eyes on him.

Mrs Borstad introduces Even as the new pianist and Isak feels his heart sink down when he hears the girls next to him whisper frantically. Of course, Even is probably straight and his friendliness is not a sign of anything besides not wanting to be the loner in his new class. When their instructor raises her baton, he takes a deep breath and sets the bow gently over the string, closing his eyes for a brief second.

 ----------

 Rehearsal goes about as well as Isak expected it to go, to which is to say not a whole lot considering he barely took time to practice this week. He puts his violin back in its case as quickly as he can, not interested in staying too long in case Mrs. Borstad wants to speak to him about his performance.

When he looks up however, she’s already looking at him expectantly and he just _knows_ what she’s about to say before the words leave her mouth.

‘Valtersen, I need to speak with you, can you come see me?’

 _Sigh_. He makes his way toward her slowly, trying to come up with a realistic lie but what she says catches him off-guard.

‘Isak… Is everything alright at home?’

There’s gentleness in her eyes and her voice that makes his skin prickle, and he looks away. _Of course_. She hadn’t forgotten the crazy look in his mother’s eyes and her elated tone that time she rambled about Beethoven’s music being an ode to the devil.

He braces himself and turns back to her. ‘Ah no, it’s better now,’ he starts, faking a broad smile and nodding at his own lie, ‘She’s- We have it under control now, it’s all good.’

He thinks she buys it, at least a little, considering the way she smiles back at him. ‘That’s good, Isak. I was asking because you sounded a bit off today-’

‘Right... I’m sorry, I had a lot of exams this week, I couldn’t practice as much,’ he cuts in with a practiced sheepish smile. ‘It won’t happen again.’

The instructor pats his shoulder fondly. ‘You know that’s not a valid excuse, Mr. Varltersen. But I’ll let it slide, just this time,’ she says, smiling.

He thanks her and hightails it out of the room. Once it’s him and his thoughts alone in the corridor, he rewinds the past hour in his mind.

_They had continued to practice Ravel’s Bolero, and Even had been given the music sheet for the piano version, pre-arranged by Mrs. Borstad._

_‘I had arranged this version to fit our ensemble when Elias was still there. Of course, it might take you a while to familiarize yourself with it, I don’t expect a flawless rendition.’_

_Even had returned her smile, reading rapidly through the score before settling it confidently on the music stand. ‘I’ll do my best,’ he had said, flexing his fingers._

_The violins struck their first chords, leading the melody, and Isak could barely concentrate on what he was playing, intent as he was on hearing Even play. And when the first notes of the piano joined their ensemble, it was all Isak could hear._

_Music seemed to flow from his fingers as they flicked across the board, transitions smooth and effortless. Even was unaltered musical genius, Isak realized, raw and so pure that it made the blond feel gauche and stiff even as he played. The sounds from Even’s hands seemed to take over the room and Isak’s world shrunk down to the lonely spot of Even’s piano and he lost himself in the notes twirling around him._

_When the music fades, he looks back toward the piano automatically. Even's eyes are fast on him and he’s smiling like he knows all of Isak's secrets._

 ----------

He spots Even sitting on the stairs, his back turned to him, and he hovers at the doorway for a second, wondering if he should just pretend not to see him and walk back to his apartment. But the sound of footsteps makes Even look up, waving the blond over when he sees him, and Isak feels a thrill go through him like a thunderbolt.

He plops down next to Even, laughing out loud when he realizes the older boy is actually rolling a fucking joint in public. Even gives him a conspiratorial smile. ‘This is the best way to unwind after a session,’ he comments, offering the lit join. There’s a moment of silence until Isak can muster enough courage to speak. ‘That… I mean, you played really well back there,’ he says, staring resolutely at the ground.

‘Really? You thought so?’ Even sounds a bit flattered.

‘Yeah… You didn’t struggle at all with the second movement… It sounded very polished’

He clears his throat, a bit embarrassed, and doesn’t expect it when Even leans into him, knocking their shoulders together slightly.

‘Yeah, about that… My mom made me practice this piece a few years ago,’ he says, smile growing into a grin at the surprise on Isak’s face.

‘So you pretended to be a natural genius and lied just so you could impress the girls, I see how it is,’ Isak replies with mock contempt, heart beating a little faster. He stares at the ground, tries to imagine all the answers he could get.

A beat, then Even takes the joint from his fingers, drawing a hit. ‘I guess you could say that,’ he answers, tone neutral and eyes turned to the sky.

When the joint is finished, Even crushes the butt against the stairs and stands up.

‘Well, then,’ he’s looking off into the distance, working his jaw for a few seconds before he turns back to Isak with a smile, ‘See you Wednesday?’

The setting sun is hitting his back and it all feels a bit surreal, the depth of his eyes and the curve of his mouth; Isak smiles back and wonders if he’s in a dream.

‘See you’

He waves a little and watches Even walk down the stairs confidently with a little twinge of regret. There’s something about Even, in the way everything feels different when he’s around him, like they’ve entered a new dimension where Isak can freely explore the strange way the boy affects him. He wants to think there’s something more to every word they’ve exchanged today, that maybe Even is genuinely interested in him in the same way _he’s_ interested in him. The thought makes his heart beat a little fast and he looks down at his hands, a smile slowly forming on his lips.

When he gets up and starts walking home, his head is full of _what ifs_.

 ----------

It’s only Tuesday morning and Isak doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

He nearly gives Sana a chemical burn during their lab session -which she yells at him for during a good half an hour- and then proceeds to spill the entire contents of his plate by tripping on his own shoelace. The boys stare at him blush and sputter when Magnus asks him why the fuck he’s so distracted, and when he finally gets to sit down he still can’t get some peace.

‘So did you fuck Emma?’ Magnus asks, and Isak chokes on his green peas. ‘Whaat? She gave you a blow job already, might as well go all the way.’’

Next to him, Mahdi is laughing his head off while Jonas just nods along.

‘What the _fuck_ Magnus?’ Isak wants to yell but his throat kind of hurts so it ends up coming out as a shriek instead. ‘When the _hell_ would I get time to fuck Emma? We haven’t even been at a party together since last time’

‘Whatever bro, just get us in on another of her parties and I’ll show you how it’s done.’

‘Says the cathooker’

The rest of the lunch break is mostly the boys making fun of Magnus, and Isak welcomes the distraction. There’s a slight surge of adrenaline when he thinks about rehearsal the next day.

 ----------

His entire body is on edge and Isak hates himself for it, hates the way his hands clench and unclench is the pockets of his jacket, hates that he has to take a deep breath before pushing the door to their music room. He’s barely on time for the lesson and everyone has already taken their seat.

As he’s making his way to his stand, he dares himself to look toward the end of the room; Even is looking back at him with a broad smile and Isak immediately loses his cool.

This time he focuses through the more difficult parts, not interested in another one-on-one with Mrs Borstad, and somehow it's already five and he's putting his violin away. There's a tap on his shoulder and he turns to see Even.

‘Hope you don't have anything scheduled after this.’

 _There he goes with the eyebrows again_ , Isak thinks, but he smiles back anyway.

‘I don't, actually. Why?’

‘I thought we could get started on our project?’

The only thing Isak hears is _our_. His mind freezes a little, until he realizes Even is waiting for an answer.

‘Sure thing. Let's do this.’

The knowing smile they share makes Isak’s blood run a little brighter.

Even turns back to leave the room, not looking back like he already knows the other boy will follow right after, and Isak wants to feel offended at this guy for thinking he’s that easy but two seconds later he’s on his feet.

The walk to Even’s apartment is short but it feels like hours to Isak, whose head is spinning with unanswered questions. He’s feeling restless and hyper-aware, wonders whether Even has ulterior motives and _what they are_ and _how_ they involve him. Even on the other hand, seems completely relaxed, not speaking much but bumping into him frequently and smiling down at him when Isak looks up. Every time their eyes meet it feels like a burn on Isak’s mind.

Once in the apartment, Even makes a beeline for his room and leaves Isak to awkwardly take in the decoration. Even’s family seems pretty loaded considering the expensive furniture adorning the living room and the gorgeous upright piano flanking the wall at the back of the room. There's a sudden urge to let his hands run over the keys, and Even is still rummaging in his room so he steps up to the piano and sits down.

He hasn't touched a piano in forever -he’s not completely sure why- but when he sets his fingers on the keys there is a surge of memories and he lets muscle memory guide him through some Chopin.

It's choppy and hesitant, he misses a lot of the chords and can't remember how to start the third movement but he still feels a bit proud of himself.

‘You didn't tell me you could play the piano as well! How many secret are you hiding from me?’

Even is standing right behind Isak, and he fumbles a little with the chords at the sound of the smooth voice.

‘You have no idea the things I'm hiding from you,’ he replies slyly, recovering slightly, and hopes the innuendo isn't lost on Even.

From the way Even smiles back mysteriously, eyes fixated on his, it isn't. And when he gestures at Isak to scoot over so he can sit down, Isak thinks it's a whole new line they're about to cross.

‘What kind of music do you listen to?’

‘90's hip hop mostly… Eminem, N.W.A, stuff like that’

‘Hmmm, how about this then?’

Even starts playing a tune Isak doesn't recognize and throws him an incredulous look when Isak shrugs.

‘The World is yours? Nas? You're a hip hop fan and you've never heard of Nas?’

Isak feels himself blush.

‘I know it! It just sounded different on the piano-’

‘You’re such a bad liar, Isak,’ he shakes his head and Isak blushes harder at the sound of his name on the other boy’s lips.

‘That’s because you can't play for shit, I didn't even recognize the chorus.’

Even elbows him playfully. ‘You wish you could play like me. Well, now that you know which song it is, you can rap along, yeah?’

His eyes crinkle as he grins and Isak’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn't know how to get himself out of this one and Even sees right through him. ‘I fucking knew it!’ he throws his head back for a laugh, baring his long white throat and Isak’s hands itch with the urge to grab onto the nape of his neck and pull him forward in a kiss.

Even looks back at him with a large smile. ‘Let’s play something you wannabe hipster will know. How about some Kanye?’

He plays the first notes to ‘Touch the sky’ and Isak shakes his head disapprovingly, a mocking pout on his lips.

‘And _I'm_ the hipster.’

‘Shut up, I know you love it. Come on, play with me, I can't reach the A flat.’

‘No way I'm playing that crap,’ Isak replies flatly, reaching over instead to play the first notes to N.W.A’s  ‘C.R.E.A.M’ the best he can, stumbling along the melody until Even pushes his fingers off the board and starts over. Isak raps under his breath and Even bobs his head along, looking over at him with a grin every time Isak forgets the lyrics. When they reach the end of the chorus loop, Even eases into a new song Isak doesn't recognize.

‘Sweet dreams. NAS,’ Even announces, mocking smile while Isak just shakes his head.

‘You’re such a poser,’ Isak says, and he goes to smack his shoulder but Even just grabs his hand, setting it over the higher keys on the keyboard and Isak is suddenly struggling to keep a straight face. His heart rate doubles instantly.

‘I can't reach over there, play with me.’

There's no playfulness to his voice this time, Even’s mouth set flat just like his hand still resting over Isak’s on the piano. The words sound like an invitation and Isak feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He pictures himself leaning over and breaking this damn tension already, but the moment ends as suddenly as it started.

‘I’ll show you first. Think you can follow?’ Even asks, leaning over as Isak nods, eyes locked on the black and white keys. Isak can feel Even’s body heat through his shirt, their shoulders rubbing together as Even goes through the notes and plays them out for him. _Right_.

‘I think I can handle it.’ He hopes he doesn't sound as breathless as he feels.

Of course he misses his cue the first time around and laugher bubbles in his chest, relieving some of the tension he feels in his muscles. Even just knocks into him with a breathy ‘Come on’ before starting over again and Isak lets their eyes lock for a second too long before he looks back at the keys.

\----------

When they decide to take a break, Isak's head is spinning with hooks and chords Even made him practice a dozen times.

‘Almost 8 PM! I’m gonna need so many sessions just to improve your music education’

‘Screw you Even, I could teach you a thing or two about music,’ Isak teases right back.

He likes the comfortable atmosphere that has grown between them, as if they were two long lost friends reuniting after years of separation. Even seems to share the sentiment, from the way he keeps stealing glances at Isak, and Isak catches him every time, feels his blood coursing faster in his veins and against his eardrums. His entire body feels light and he thinks to himself, _this might be_ _it_.

Except there's a sudden ring at the door that seems to drag Even out of his mellow mood.

‘Shi- I forgot my parents were coming home tonight-’

‘It’s okay, I need to get home anyway,' Isak cuts off like he doesn't care. 'See you Saturday?’

He tries to keep the hopefulness out of his voice but the way Even looks at him a beat too long makes him think he knows anyway.

‘Bye bye, Isak,’ and he's using _this_ voice again, the one that makes Isak feel hot and flustered all over, the one that makes him wonder what it’d be like to kiss a boy, this boy and to feel him kiss back with his tongue and his lips against his mouth and his hands along his skin.

Isak isn't sure how he makes it back to his apartment, just knows that he can't get to his bedroom fast enough, can't wait to lock the door behind him so he can lean back against it and claw at his jeans and briefs until he’s curling a hand against his dick. Three seconds in and he knows he'll come harder than ever before and he lets himself picture it this time, imagines soft moans against the crook of his necks, hands leaving a burning trail on his skin, Even’s watchful eyes blown dark as he brings Isak to the edge over and over again. The pleasure is immense, intense, makes him moan and pant against the hard wood because right now there's nothing more important than the feeling of his fingers sliding over the head of his cock, shudders running through his body until he can barely stand.

And when he comes -far too soon but he knows, _he_ _knows_ , he'll do it all through the night- his knees give out beneath him and he slides to the floor and he wants to cry.

Because it feels so good and it feels so right but he cannot _not_ think of Even. And he doesn't know what to expect, doesn't even know how much of it is just wishful thinking, a projection of feelings Even will never reciprocate, and the harsh truth of it scares him more than the time his father left the house. It's a throwback to his crush on his straight best friend, and Isak thought he was done with that shit already, can't believe he's doing this again.

It's only Wednesday evening and Isak still doesn't know what the fuck he’s doing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had kind of forgotten about this fic but recently realized I had written half of it already and that it was lying around on my computer, so might as well post it in case anyone's still following this!

The rest of the week is a blur for Isak. He tries to look up Even on every social media after getting his last name from the latest class email sent by Mrs Borstad, but there's no Even Bech Naesheim anywhere. Isak wishes he could hate himself for being so desperate but the truth is that he is just too far gone to even care.

When Saturday finally comes around, he's feeling the pressure in his chest as he makes his way towards the music school. There's a part of him that is wondering whether Even will smile at him again, whether he'll invite him to his house again and what will happen if he does. When he enters the room however, Even is not seating at his usual spot in front of the piano, and when Mrs Borstad raises her stick to start the lesson Isak has to admit that he might not show up at all.

Indeed, the lesson ends without a trace of Even. Isak is torn between pretending he doesn't care and going to his instructor for more information, but he can’t bring himself to do it and leaves the building instead, dejected. He had hoped seeing Even after spending so much time alone just a few days before would have helped him figure out where they stood. Maybe Even would have clarified his feelings, maybe he’d have continued to show interest. _He could also have shown he just wanted to be friends_ , he tries not to think. He didn't want to let himself feel as if he was overthinking things because the way Even looked at him definitely didn't resemble the way his friends looked at him. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel that there was no way in hell radiant, beautiful Even would take interest in him. They barely knew each other, after all. And although that afternoon at Even’s place had felt like it had lasted forever, Isak couldn’t pretend they had done more than play some piano together and talk a little about music for a few hours. If anything, it’s pitiful how quickly he let himself hope for more because Even didn’t do anything beside invite him home and share a joint with him once. All the rest is just in Isak’s head, wishful thinking that Even was actually stealing glances at him and pushing closer to him while they were on the piano.

*

Even is not in the music room when he arrives the next Wednesday either, and Isak feels growing disappointment weight him down. There's a black hole of self-hatred in his chest when he realizes how badly he has been deluding himself. He thinks that Even’s sudden disappearance came at the right time, just as he was falling deeper for the tall blond, and it’s probably all for the best. That way, he could realize just how fucked he was, crushing all over the coolest boy in his class as if there was any way this could somehow turn into a real life romance.

His mood takes a turn for the worse over the end of the week, his friends noticing there is definitely something wrong.

“Hey, you alright Isak?” asks Jonas at lunch on Tuesday, and Isak just sighs and lets weariness show on his face.

“Yeah, it’s just… A lot of shit at home.” He pauses. “My dad wants to see me. And mom.” he adds, voice meaningful. It's not entirely a lie; his dad has been contacting him all week but he was more interested in wallowing in misery. He also doesn’t think he can quite handle talks about meeting both his parents together yet. The texts from his dad about a dinner together had left him shaken, the mere thought of seeing his mother again causing him actual distress. He manages to put a lid on his emotions somehow but Jonas knows him better than anyone else and he probably figured him out. When he looks up, sure enough, Jonas is looking at him with a little worry in his eyes, and Isak just fake-smiles.

“It’s okay, just annoying,” he says in a light tone and Jonas nods even though he clearly doesn’t look convinced. He knows better than to push Isak about his parents, though, and Isak feels a bit bad for lying to him. The truth isn’t much better though, because how do you come out to your best friend and explain that you’ve been lying to him for three years? Jonas doesn’t have a clue about what’s really eating at Isak, and it’s better that way. Isak doesn’t want to sound stupid anyway. He knows he wouldn’t be able to explain why he thought there could be something between him and Even, and he doesn’t want to come off as that desperate kid starving for affection. So he looks down at his plate and picks at his food until the bell rings and they have to go to class.

*

Every day is full of classes and homework, and he buries his head in his books every evening like it’ll help him escape reality. It’s one thing to convince himself Even doesn’t like him back, it’s another to forget about him. His mind keeps going back to that afternoon at Even’s, playing random songs on the piano and laughing at each other. Isak had felt so carefree for the first time in his life, as if all the things weighing him down had disappeared. For a few hours, he had just been a regular teenager hanging out with the boy he liked, not caring about his mentally ill mother or his asshole dad or what his friends would think if they knew.

When Saturday finally comes around, Isak has somehow managed to convince himself that he’s over his crush. Even if Even returns to class this weekend, Isak will stand by his resolve to not let any of this affect him. He has decided that he’ll not talk to Even any longer than necessary, will _certainly_ not follow him home or outside for a smoke, because he needs those feelings to disappear first. Nevertheless, he’s nervous when he gets to the music school around 2PM, jittery feeling in his arms and legs as he walks toward their usual room.

He opens the door wide, steeling himself as he raises his eyes to look at the other students already there, and he almost stops breathing. Even is sitting on Isak’s chair, legs crossed and arms linked between his head, talking animatedly with the two flutists in the class. Whatever caused him to skip two lessons doesn’t seem to be affecting him anymore, considering the smile on his face. When he notices Isak hovering at the door, his smile grows even larger and he raises his arm to wave at him. Isak flounders a little, heart pounding, and he hesitantly walks into the room toward his seat. Even looks up at him when he reaches their little group, not moving from his seat but throwing him the largest grin.

“Hey, Isak,” he says, and Isak is instantly flustered again. Of course, one week wouldn’t be enough to get over Even and his beautiful smile and his wide blue eyes.

“Hey,” he answers awkwardly, standing there with his violin case, and waves vaguely at the two girls beside Even. “You’re, uh,...” he gestures toward the chair Even is sitting on, hoping he gets a clue.

“Oh, right,” and then Even is unfurling his long legs and standing up to his full height, and Isak’s throat goes a little dry. It feels like Even’s towering over him, pinning him down with that electric gaze, and Isak has to will himself to look away.

He mutters a quick ‘Thanks’ and then their instructor comes into the room and he’s saved from having to make any small talk. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t spend the entire session wondering why Even was away an entire week or whether he was flirting with those girls. Mrs Borstad looks at him a little too long after they are done with rehearsal, probably because he screwed up his part, but he smiles at her and she doesn’t ask to talk to him this time.

Even, on the other hand, gets right in his personal space as he’s putting his violin away. 

“Are you free after this?” he asks, enthusiasm warming his voice. Isak doesn’t look up when he answers.

“Yeah, I think so. Why?” His heart is beating faster because, what if Even invites him to his house again?

“I still need to teach you how to play ‘The World is mine’, remember?”

Even is looking him straight in the eye, eyebrows raised, smiling like he’s making some big joke but Isak can’t help freezing up. Even is inviting him over again, making a reference to the last he was at his house like it’s an inside joke between them. Isak feels a little overwhelmed at the thought, but there’s also nervousness zipping through his body because he has no idea where Even is going with this.

“Right,” he answers belatedly, voice strained.

Even is calling all the shots and Isak feels so lost. Everything between them started because Even wanted them to play some damn song together, but that seems forgotten now and Isak feels crushed by the sudden feeling of hope blooming in his chest. He’s caught in Even’s spell, can’t get away even if he wanted to; he’s in too deep. And he can’t do anything but nod minutely at Even when he asks expectantly if Isak is coming.

*

The tram ride is slow, pale sunlight reflecting off the metal sidebars. Isak looks at Even looking out the window and he hates the tightness in his chest every time Even smiles at something he sees. He jumps when Even suddenly speaks, eyes still lost in the urban landscape.

“Don’t you wish sometimes that you could take a train to anywhere, and it would keep running and it would never stop? Until you reach the end of the tracks or a cliff or whatever?”

Isak is too taken aback to answer, and Even doesn’t seem to care about his opinion either way as he continues.

“I watched that movie again, last week. _Milky Way Railroad._ It’s the story of a boy who takes a train to nowhere, and the train takes him through the galaxy. And there’s his best friend there, but he doesn’t speak much and he doesn’t get down at any stop. And then there’s the final stop, but his best friend has disappeared, and then the boy wakes up in the middle of the city. And his parents are around him, and they tell him his friend has drowned and that everything was just a dream.”

He looks back, suddenly, blue piercing eyes meeting Isak’s own, and Isak can’t look away. He swallows, tries to make his throat work. He doesn’t expect the words that come out.

“Do you wish you would never woke up?”

Even’s eyes narrow immediately. He looks almost angry for a second, and then the tension in his face gives out and he turns back to the window.

“It’s not about the song anyway,” he says after a few seconds.

Isak stares at the back of his head, still reeling. There’s something beneath this surreal exchange, something that had to do with the strange light lurking in Even’s eyes. He doesn’t know how to ask though, or even what to ask.

*

They walk to the apartment in silence, Even’s eyes not leaving the ground. He looks morose now, all trace of his earlier joy gone. Isak bites his lips and glances at him from the corner of his eye, worried. He’s desperately hoping he didn’t fuck everything up with that stupid question, although Even’s answer was cryptic at best, and why the hell did he even-

“Don’t make that face,” Even says, quashing his bout of panic, “I just… didn’t really feel like doing much last week.”

Isak just relaxes his shoulders a little, keeps his eyes trained on the dirty pavement below his feet. There’s a movie playing in his head. His mom asleep on the couch; sprawled at her chair over the table, shaking with silent sobs; staring at the ceiling, unblinking.

“I get it,” he says after a while, voice shaking slightly. “My mom… She… She gets like that sometimes too.”

It feels liberating, even just saying a small bit of the truth, because Even says _Yeah_ with a little smile and his hand pats his shoulder briefly, reassuring grasp of his fingers before he lets go. It takes some of that pain away.

By the time they’re climbing the stairs to Even’s apartment, his mood is soaring again. He’s telling a story from school and laughing louder than Isak, who is chuckling awkwardly. He is surprised by Even’s sudden change in mood but doesn’t question it, needing the lift in his mood after his earlier confession.

Even leaves him in the living room and goes into his bedroom, leaving Isak to sit gingerly on the broad grey couch. When he comes back with a laptop, a pen and a few music sheets, he drops down next to him heavily.

"So. They usually play the duo version during live concerts. I can't find a CD version though, so the only thing we can use is this video but the quality is kind of shitty..." Even trails off, and Isak can feel his eyes on him but he stares at the laptop instead.

"I have a good enough ear but it's really difficult to pick out notes from a live performance, you know?" Isak replied, noncommittally. He chances a look back at Even, who is staring vacantly; his usual smile is replaced by a thoughtful expression.

"I tried to map it out but I'm not a violinist so it's not really accurate," he says, turning back to Isak. "How do you think we should proceed?"

Isak shifts on the couch, grabs the sheets from Even's hands. "Let me see… Put the video on so I can compare." There's a slight tremor in his body at the way Even is trusting his ability to get things right, and his confidence feels boosted. Even starts the video, and Isak focuses on the handwritten sheet music, reading the sequence. He asks for a pause 20 seconds into the violin part, a dubious frown on his face.

"Yeah, okay, give me the pen. These are all wrong," he adds, smiling mockingly at Even, who holds a hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture of pain.

"You wound me, Isak! Do you know how much time I spent on this?”

Isak gives him a cheeky smile, "What can I say, it's just no good." He sighs exaggeratedly. "Is this how you were planning to seduce that cute flute girl? Because, let me tell you, it is _not_ working." He's not sure what he's fishing for exactly, laughs a little as he looks back at Even to gauge his reaction.

Even's eyes are serious, despite the smile on his face.

"Yeah?" he asks in a low tone, grabbing the pen he left on the armrest. "I thought it was pretty effective." His gaze is piercing and he's leaning into Isak's personal space, his face neutral.

Isak's heart feels like it misses a beat or maybe several, breath hitching in his throat. He takes the pen and hurriedly looks back at the sheet, voice a little strangled when he asks Even to restart the video.

*

When they finally have the entire score written out, the room is a bit darker and Isak is a lot more tired. Even stretches his arms widely, rising from the couch with a yawn.

"Wanna eat something?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows as he adds, "I can only make cheese toasts though."

Isak chuckles and waves him away, "Whatever. I'd eat anything, I'm starved. Just add a lot of spice."

Even snaps his fingers with a grin. "Coming right up."

Once he has left the room, Isak turns back to his violin. After listening to the melody on repeat for what felt like four hours, he wants to test it out for himself.

The first few notes are hesitant but he quickly finds a rhythm, running increasingly smoothly through the score as he lets himself get taken over by the momentum of the song. There's a certain comfort in the way he makes his bow fly across the strings, the world around him momentarily coming to a stop. When he reaches the end of the melody, he draws out the last note like a lament. He hasn't watched the movie but he's sure of it now. It's a love song. What it means for Even though, he's not sure. He thinks back to the strange proposal _. Playing it as a duo_. Even's eyes on him during rehearsal and while he wrote down the score. His heart is racing again and he can feel himself shake slightly. There's a million _what ifs_ in his head and he knows he wants to take this chance, needs to know what Even's intentions are.

"Could you play it again?" Even suddenly asks from behind him and Isak nearly jumps in surprise.

"Ah," he starts, "uh, sure..."

But he's feeling much less confident now. His head is full of thoughts of Even again and he just can't calm down, can't bring himself to empty his mind and let muscle memory take over. He sets the bow down on his violin anyway, draws out the first notes but it's nowhere as polished anymore.

There's the light clatter of a plate being set down on the wooden table behind him, and then he realizes Even is walking toward him, the sounds of footsteps growing closer until he feels a light puff of air against his neck. Time freezes against the certainty of Even's body so close to his own. Isak tries to concentrate on his breathing, tries to bring it down to a more reasonable level while he plays. His wrist is shaking and the notes are coming out all wrong but he can’t focus on anything other than Even's body heat, like a magnetic field pushing against the skin of his nape. Even shifts behind him, voice dropping to a near-whisper when he says, “Keep playing.”

Isak swallows, tries to nod as his fingers continue to shift on the neck of the violin almost automatically. He is barely getting through the movement when Even moves again, setting a hand against the curve of his ribs.

“It’s okay,” he says in that low register that makes Isak’s skin tingle. His fingers tighten ever slightly against Isak’s waist.

Isak doesn’t know what is happening. He feels desperate. There's a part of him that wants to pull away and run, to say that this is most certainly _not_ okay. But more than anything, he wants so badly to turn around in Even’s arms and kiss his mouth and feel the other boy kiss back. His heart is pounding like it's trying to make a run for it.

Isak lifts his bow from the violin and lets his arms fall back to his side with a great heave of his chest like it’s the bravest thing he’s ever done. The violin and the bow clatters down to the ground and Isak doesn't even wince because he simply couldn't care less at the moment. Even answers with another hand around the side of his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

There's so much tension between them Isak can taste it like a button cell on his tongue. The roof of his mouth is tingling, and there's an electric feeling coursing through his blood. His head is spinning with the sudden surge of lust in his body, his brain fixating on what little space there must be left between them.

Isak can feel the heat of Even’s hands through his shirt and it kindles the desire buried in his chest; all the things that he wants so badly to happen right now, if only Even made that first move. His mind is delirious with images of long hands roaming his body, cupping his jaw, marking his skin, brushing closer to the secret places on his body he has never let anybody touch. Isak feels it in every fiber of his being; the desire to just surrender to his feelings, to let his head fall back on Even's shoulder and let him take over.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait much longer.

Even steps closer, hands still gripping Isak's waist. He lays the softest kiss on the sensitive underside of Isak's nape and Isak can't help but lean into the caress as his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs with relief and want, so much _want_ coursing in his body.

His blood is thrumming against his veins, roaring in his ears as he feels Even's lips brush over the side of his neck over and over again, soft and languid and burning. Even is kissing along the slope of his neck, so slow it's almost reverent, and Isak gasps when he pulls at his collar to kiss further down.

“Even,” he moans softly, and Even hums in answer, licking at the pale skin. When he tries to turn around Even doesn't let him, gripping his hips tighter.

“You're so hot, Isak,” he says like a groan, and the words throw Isak into overdrive. His dick is already rock hard and Even has barely gotten his hands on him.

“I’ve wanted this,” Even starts again, lips dragging deliciously against Isak's ear. “Ever since I saw you play.”

And then he’s gripping his waist again but this time it's to turn Isak’s body back around, and Isak goes willingly. He meets Even’s eyes, and there's no hesitation when he pulls at Even's neck to nudge their lips together.

The kiss is a slow burn, his world narrowing down to the feeling of Even's lips sliding against his own. Even loops his arms around his waist and pulls him flush against him. They kiss for what feels like an eternity; Isak's mouth is open and slack under Even’s, every stroke of their lips sending thrills down his spine. He sets his hands flat against Even's belly and hooks his fingers in the fabric of his hoodie, instinctively pulling him closer. Even groans, low and throaty.

“ _Fuck_ Isak, I want-”

He trails off, his hands sliding gently from the small of Isak's back to his hips and Isak starts begging shamelessly.

“Even, please,” he moans, all his thoughts focused on the way Even's finger is slip and sliding against the waistband of his jeans. His mind is a confused jumble of _Put your hands on me_ and _Touch me touch me._

Even breaks away instead, breath coming fast, a serious look on his face. Isak wants to pull him back in, bury his head in his neck and slide his hands down his body. Instead, he doesn’t move and works to calm himself down, taking in the way Even just stares at him silently, doubt swimming in his eyes. Then, Even slowly leans in to peck him on the lips, all urgency gone.

“Isak,” he starts hesitantly, eyes tracing Isak’s face. “Do you remember what we talked about in the tram?”

Isak stares back at him, frowning slightly.

“When you said… You wanted the train to never stop…?”

“When you asked me if I wished I never woke up,” Even sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a second. When Isak stays silent, he continues.

“I didn’t want to lie to you, Isak. And you need to know before… If you’re serious about doing this.”

Isak is almost shaking with what he feels is coming.

“I don’t get it, Ev-”

“I’m bipolar,” Even cuts in, speaking so softly Isak thinks he misheard at first. “I’m bipolar and that’s why I missed an entire week of school.”

He looks so vulnerable Isak’s surprise fades away, replaced by a growing dread.

“I was too depressed to get out of bed,” Even continues, looking down.

Isak blinks in disbelief. He thinks about his mom; her uncontrolled outburst, her crying face when his dad left, her apathy every day.

Even is clenching and unclenching his fingers in Isak's shirt, his eyes darting across Isak’s face.

“My mom… She’s ill too,” Isak says finally, looking at the ground.

“She used to get really angry…. She...She did some bad stuff to us. To me and my sister.”

He sniffles a little, shuffling the words he wants to say in his head.

“Do you… ever get like that too?”

His eyes bore into Even’s. He tries to convey everything he can't say and Even seems to get it because he suddenly hugs Isak, burying his face in his hair.

“Isak, I'm so sorry.”

Even hugs him tighter before pulling away to look at him intensely. “I can't control myself sometimes, I do a lot of shit. But I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

He scoffs self-deprecatingly. “I just do so much crap. I had to leave my previous school and move to the city. It was so fucked up. But I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

Isak listens quietly. There's a part of him that wants to bolt, that screams at him _mom tried to kill herself in front of you_. But he also thinks that Even is so beautiful, a whole color spectrum of light; that being with him is effortless, natural. That maybe he owns it to himself to try, this time.

“I like this, Even,” he says slowly. “I want to try it with you,” and his voice doesn't waver. He won't lie and pretend he's not scared, because he is; but he is also so tired of running. Even is a ray of sunlight in his otherwise bleak reality, and he owes it to himself to try.

Even is smiling at him, sunshine grin illuminating his face again, and Isak thinks there was never any doubt in his mind. So he just winds his arms around Even’s neck and pulls him closer for a sealing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the blue balls lol   
> I started out wanting to write smut but then I thought Even would be too concerned about his disorder to continue. Hope it doesn't come across too weird.


End file.
